


an almost forgotten urge

by acheforhim, inflomora



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Higher Vampire Steve, M/M, Minor Angst, Non-Linear Narrative, Wicher-inspired Fantasy, Witcher Bucky, vampire bites in unconventional places as a form of foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27087964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheforhim/pseuds/acheforhim, https://archiveofourown.org/users/inflomora/pseuds/inflomora
Summary: Steve’s smile is so warm, so familiar, and the Wolf has missed it so much without even knowing.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 85
Kudos: 175
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. An old friend, part I

**Author's Note:**

> [takes a deep breath] [screams] IT’S HERE!!!
> 
> The biggest thank yous in the world go out to inflomora for the gorgeous art, fangrrlsing for the help & the NASBB mods for organizing this fest. ♥♥♥
> 
> This story is inspired by the Witcher but it doesn’t follow the rules of the universe fully; I have shifted things around to fit my SteveBucky agenda. :’D I’ve only read the first book of short stories so far and its structure inspired the structure of this fic. The chapters titled “An old friend” tell the story of the night and morning after when Steve and Bucky find each other, and the other chapters tell different stories from their time together after that.
> 
> This fic will update every day from now until Saturday – one chapter from Monday to Friday and then the final chapter and the epilogue on Saturday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS: vague/brief mention of Steve and Bucky being captured by an enemy army & Bucky falling to his death (or what felt like it) as he tries to escape.

The Wolf is in no hurry.

He gazes straight ahead as he guides his mare among the woods. She is getting grumpy with him, anxious about him once again setting off on a hunt at night, so he doesn’t rush her. The job should be simple enough – find the monster that’s been terrorizing the villagers, get rid of it, bring proof, get paid, hit the road. He’s done it a million times before. Tonight shouldn’t be so different.

It shouldn’t. But.

As soon as he gets a feel for the creature, as soon as he feels the spark at the edge of his senses that will guide him to his target, it disappears. The light simply goes out. Like the monster just died, all on its own, without him having to get his hands dirty.

As if it’s ever that easy.

He spurs Alpine on, and she snorts at him but then obeys, setting off into a gallop in the direction the Wolf felt the flicker from. He strains to feel something else, some living soul, whatever it was that killed his target and stole his reward from right under his nose.

He comes to a clearing soon, in the far end of which sits a hut – or it used to be a hut, at least, before it became the wreck he sees now. He slows Alpine down again, even though he knows it’s no use. Whatever is here, if it was strong enough to kill a werewolf, it will be keen enough to hear him coming.

He ties his mare to a tree some paces away from the hut and pats her apologetically before he walks away.

The windows are all shattered, but the door is still intact. As he goes up to it, he idly thinks of knocking, just to see if whatever is inside will open it, then huffs a quiet laugh at himself and grabs the handle.

Maybe there is nothing inside. Maybe the werewolf fought another beast and ran here to lick its mortal wounds.

Maybe.

He carefully pushes the door open and walks inside the hut. Despite the broken windows, the air inside is stale, heavy with mold and dust gathered over years and years. There is a fresher scent though, that of blood, and he immediately sees the body on the floor. There is still furniture around, as well as books and clothes, candles and bottles – like whoever left this place to rot did so in a hurry, and whoever’s found it through the years didn’t think anything left was valuable enough to take. He’s inclined to agree – the only thing worth anything in here would be the werewolf carcass.

If only its head wasn’t missing.

He knows the killer is still around. If he can’t feel them the way he can feel creatures…

At the very least, he’d like to meet the human strong enough to kill a werewolf on their own.

“Are you the one they call White Wolf?”

The voice comes from behind him.

He snaps around, hand on the hilt of his sword, to see a man standing at the door.

“Saw your fabled white horse outside, so I thought it might be you,” the man continues, leaning back, presumably so he can get a look at Alpine again, his lips spread in a smile.

He is. Remarkably relaxed for someone who knows he’s in the company of the White Wolf. He looks back at the Wolf.

He is.

He is.

“Did I steal your bounty?” The man asks, rubbing at his neck, and the Wolf knows this gesture, knows the false bashfulness, knows he’s full of shit–and the man keeps speaking, but the Wolf can’t hear it because he knows this voice, he knows this face, he knows–

He steps forward until he’s standing under the stream of light entering from the windows, faint but enough to see by as the moon is full.

The man quiets down and raises his eyebrow as if prompting the Wolf to speak. Then his face shifts, rearranges itself into recognition, then shock, then hopefulness, then–

“Bucky?” he whispers.

He hasn’t been called that name in–

It’s been years since–

“Bucky,” the man says again, happy, relieved, and he’s about to come closer, but the Wolf doesn’t let him.

“Stay back,” he warns, raising his hand, and the man’s gaze catches on the metal for a moment before he meets his eyes again.

“Don’t you remember me, Buck?”

Oh, does he remember. He remembers–

_A village burning–_

_Shackles–_

_Cramped into a wagon with_ that boy _and so many others–_

_Fighting to break out, the narrow mountain path, slipping while trying to evade a soldier, falling–_

_Falling–_

“Bucky?”

He has never seen those scenes so clearly before; he’s only gotten echoes, images vague enough to be confused with dreams. Now he knows they’re memories, ones his mind has been trying to get to for years and never been quite able to reach, to connect to anything real. They were always there, dormant, but now they open up before him like flowers and he can see, he can see–

“Steve.”

The man smiles then, and he can see it now, he can see the face of the boy he used to know, the boy he shared everything with, the best friend he grew up with– _where, where?_

“Bucky.”

Five times he’s said it now, this name that no one calls him by anymore, that he himself forgot. Five times he’s said it, and all the Wolf wants is to beg him to say it again.

He lowers his hand, and the man takes a step forward, slow and careful. They measure each other up, make note of what has changed since they last saw each other. The Wolf–should he call himself Bucky?–has no idea when that even was. Has no idea what to say.

“You were smaller,” he blurts out, eyeing the muscular body before him, and Steve throws his head back with a laugh the Wolf feels in his chest.

“So were you!” he says, smiling widely, and the Wolf feels a small smile tug on his own lips.

“Not as small as you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You were taller, but you were just as skinny as I was.”

The Wolf’s only response is a hum. He looks at Steve’s clothes, dark and form-fitting, and his brain supplies him with the image of a boy wearing dirty white shirts so big on him they might as well have been gowns.

“You used to wear your father’s shirts.”

“I make enough coin to buy my own now.”

“By doing what? Killing monsters?”

He can see blood spattered here and there on Steve’s shirt, but there’s no sign of any wound on him. How the hell did he kill a werewolf without getting a scratch on him?

An almost forgotten urge pulses in his veins, makes him want to pat this man down, hold him, make sure he’s okay. But he gets the feeling is unneeded – Steve never actually needed him to protect him, could always take care of himself. He sure doesn’t look like he needs him now. That is why the Wolf doesn’t reach for him when Steve steps even closer.

It catches him by surprise, though it really shouldn’t, when the man - Steve, his Steve - pulls him closer in a hug.

It takes him a second to react.

"Come on, Buck," Steve murmurs into his neck. "I know what they say about the White Wolf being unable to feel is bullshit."

It is.

It might be true for others like him, maybe the ones trained from childhood, but they got him too late. Not all of their teachings stuck to him the way they intended.

So he hugs him back. He hugs his friend, his Steve, and for a moment lets himself forget everything they taught him, lets himself remember what they took from him.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” he says. “You’re here.”

“And you’re a Witcher!” Steve replies. The Wolf can’t tell if that’s shock, awe or disapproval in his tone. Probably a mix of all three. Steve pulls away to look at him, but he remains close, his hands firm on the Wolf’s shoulders. “All the stories about the White Wolf I’ve heard, they’ve all been about you?”

“Surprised to see what I’ve turned into?”

“Surprised to see that you’re alive.”

“Oh,” the Wolf says.

“ _Oh,_ ” Steve mocks, but his tone gets all hushed when he speaks again. “I saw you fall to your death, Buck.”

“Guess it wasn’t to my death.”

“You guess?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You—” Steve closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. “We should go,” he says, then hesitates. “Do you want to go back to the village together?” he asks, as if unsure whether the Wolf would want to walk with him.

“Yes, Steve,” he says, making sure to convey in his tone how dumb the question is. Steve huffs and squeezes his shoulder one last time before he lets go. “You need help with that?” he asks when Steve looks at the werewolf carcass.

Steve looks from him to the body, as if unsure whether he should answer or not.

“What do you usually do?” Steve asks. “After you’ve harvested what you can.”

“I leave what’s left for other beasts to find,” Bucky says. “What do… Is there something you usually do?”

“No,” Steve lies. “Let’s carry it outside,” he continues before the Wolf can question him, so he doesn’t. He just helps him carry the body close to the tree line.

Alpine draws his attention with a snort, so he walks up to her and pats her gently. “I’m sorry, girl,” he murmurs. “I know you don’t like the blood.”

Steve comes up to them, and although Alpine blinks at him mistrustfully, she graciously accepts his petting hand.

“She’s beautiful,” Steve says, though he sounds unsure for some reason.

“Get your own horse, Rogers,” Bucky says, surprising himself by remembering Steve’s surname, and Steve laughs.

“They don’t really like me.”

“Horses?”

“Animals in general.”

“Huh. So you just go on foot?”

“Mostly, yes.”

That’s going to prolong their journey back to the village by about two hours.

“You can go ahead, Buck,” Steve says, realizing what he’s thinking. “I know you said we’d go back together, but we can meet in the morning. You can bring the head, too,” he says, motioning towards where he left it by the door.

“I’m not leaving you,” the Wolf says. It’s obvious Steve doesn’t need protection, so it should be clear that the Wolf is staying because he wants to be with him. With the way Steve’s eyes soften, he reckons the message has been received. “And I’m not taking it back. You did the job, you should get paid for it.”

“Okay, Buck. We’re going back together.”

There is decidedly something wrong with Steve, something he is hiding. The Wolf was born in Kaer Morhen more than seventy years ago, and he only looks like a young man thanks to him being a Witcher. Steve bears no medallion to show he is one of them, so if he looks youthful because he is in any way inhuman, it wasn’t something that was done to him in a Witcher school. Is it something he was born with? Did Bucky grow up knowing his friend was different, only to forget it along with everything else about his life before the fall?

At any rate, Steve doesn’t seem to fear his Witcher status, which has to mean he hasn’t hurt anyone - besides werewolves, that is. The Wolf knows he should be suspicious, that someone seemingly so powerful should not be trusted, especially with how hazy his memories of the man are, and yet…

Steve’s smile is so warm, so familiar, and the Wolf has missed it so much without even knowing.

Whoever Steve is, Bucky knows in his gut that he would never, ever hurt him.

He takes Alpine’s reins in his hand and they start making their way back to Mrachina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story includes locations from the Witcher canon, the MCU canon, and locations whose names I came up with on my own because that’s fun. In this chapter, I made up the village they’re returning to. Mrachina (мрачина) means ‘darkness/dusk’ in Bulgarian and I used it simply because I like the word (and because they meet in the night, so it came to me easily. :D). I will be adding similar notes at the end the chapters as needed, so be sure to check those if I use a name you’re not familiar with.
> 
> TOMORROW: "Hard to put in a song", in which we skip a month into the future to visit a certain princess and Bucky pays special attention to Steve's hands because of reasons.


	2. Hard to put in a song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder about the non-linear nature of this fic: this chapter is set a month after the first, so Bucky and Steve have been reunited for a little bit.
> 
> Once again, lovely art was created by [inflomora](https://twitter.com/inflomora_art) ♥

“Have you ever been to Wakanda before?” Bucky asks.

Steve shakes his head. “I haven’t had any business here. Heard they’re wary of strangers.”

He doesn’t look up at Bucky as he speaks, hungry eyes busy taking in the lush greenery along the path. It’s peaceful traveling through here; the leaves rustling in the wind and Alpine’s hooves hitting the ground are the only sounds they can hear when they’re not speaking.

Steve’s fingers twitch at his side as his eyes take their fill, and Bucky realizes he knows why - Steve wants to draw something. He vaguely remembers charcoal scratching over parchment, getting everywhere by the time Steve finished a drawing.

Bucky doesn’t know if Steve still draws. It certainly seems like it, if his hands still itch to do it when he sees something beautiful. Bucky hasn’t seen him draw though, and he doesn’t seem to carry any supplies with him. He doesn’t carry much in general - he’s always on the road, and he has no need of a horse that would carry any heavy burden, so he doesn’t have much on him besides a small backpack.

Bucky wonders if he should ask about it. He’s curious to see how good Steve has gotten after so many years; he’s had more time to improve his skills than most artists ever get, and his senses are keener than ever, rather than diminishing. He’s probably amazing at drawing by now.

But he hasn’t brought it up. Bucky wonders if he should. His memories from before are scarce, so anytime he gets a flash of something that Steve can confirm actually happened, Steve’s whole face brightens up and makes Bucky feel lighter.

He’s started a journal, listing all the things he remembers, dividing them into things Steve remembers too, and ones he doesn’t. It’s equally likely that Steve just wasn’t there for the latter or that Bucky just imagined them. Either way, it’s good to have at least part of what he sees confirmed as real. It’s a relief after years of thinking he just had an imagination that latched onto random images for no obvious reason.

Although he’s not an artist himself, Bucky knows art can be personal, and so many prefer to keep it to themselves until they’ve perfected it or even longer. He once knew a bard who wouldn’t even hum a single line of his songs in front of others until he had a finished version that he deemed listenable. Maybe Steve feels the same way. Bucky can wait for him to bring it up himself if he ever wants to.

Deciding not to prod, Bucky takes a moment to remember what Steve last said.

“They’re protective of what they have,” Bucky says.

“As well they should be,” Steve says, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looks up at Bucky. He has a big grin on his face, and Bucky can only smile down fondly at him.

Steve isn’t subtle at all, but that doesn’t make him any less sweet. He’s a bit too far away for Bucky to reach and ruffle his hair, but that doesn’t stop his own fingers from doing some twitching.

They reach the city soon, and Steve is equally fascinated by the architecture. Bucky leaves Alpine with the same lady he usually does at the outskirts of the city, and then they join the flow of the crowd around the market.

They don’t talk much, Steve letting Bucky lead the way through the city. Bucky hasn’t told Steve exactly where they’re going, just that he wants to check on a friend, so he gets to see Steve’s jaw drop a little when they head up the road to the palace.

“Bucky…”

“Yes?”

“Does your friend work in the palace?”

Bucky inclines his head to the side. “In a way.”

Steve lets out a little noise of confusion, but he doesn’t question him any further.

He probably wishes he had when they are met by Dora Milaje at the gates. One of the women informs them that the Princess is expecting them, and Bucky nods. He’s sure their trek through the city gave any fleet-footed messenger enough time to inform Shuri of their arrival.

Steve, on the other hand, just glares at him as they are being escorted.

“Something the matter, Steve?” Bucky asks casually, and Steve huffs at him.

“You’re a dick,” he murmurs, and Bucky chuckles. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m not prepared to meet a _princess._ ”

Bucky looks him up and down. His shirt and trousers clearly aren’t new, but they’re not too worn, and they fit him well. “You look good,” he says, and Steve blinks at him.

“Not what I meant,” Steve says, but he’s clearly mollified by the compliment. “I don’t have anything for her.”

“She won’t want anything from you,” Bucky says, confused.

Steve rolls his eyes. “We’re still guests here. It’s not polite to go into someone’s home empty-handed.”

He says it with such conviction; Bucky realizes it’s probably something instilled in him when he was young. He wonders if he was taught the same, but the few times he’s felt uneasy about going somewhere empty-handed, it was because he was returning from a hunt he wasn’t able to finish for one reason or another.

All the gifts he’s ever been given were either rewards or things to express gratitude. More often than not, those things were weapons, something that would help a Witcher along the way, rather than a simple keepsake. Given that no Witcher was ever wealthy, it was not customary for them to be gifted things with no practical uses, nor did they buy such items for themselves.

He looks down at his left hand. That has to be the most valuable thing he’s ever gotten, both practical and dangerous. And he got it from Shuri. She had it made for him as a sign of gratitude, sure, but it was way more generous than he ever expected. Did she feel more inclined to give it to him because of their friendship?

He looks back at Steve, feeling a little guilty himself. “We’ll bring her something next time.”

Steve smiles at the promise, though he doesn’t hide his surprise at the possibility of them visiting again. Bucky has been hesitant about making any plans with Steve, still not fully convinced their paths wouldn’t separate soon. He’s made a promise now though, and he knows Steve will hold him to it.

They’re not led to the throne room but a small dining room, probably the place where the family can take their meals when they don’t have to entertain. Shuri is the only one in the room, sitting at the head of the table, though it is set for three. The Dora Milaje take their spots guarding by the door, and Bucky thanks them before approaching Shuri.

“I have had a difficult morning, so I thought you might forgive me if we met over lunch instead of holding an official audience,” Shuri says, getting up to meet them. They shake hands, after which Bucky holds out his left hand dutifully for inspection.

Shuri hums as she gently stretches out his arm and looks it over. “You’ve been taking good care of my baby,” she says, and he laughs.

“I know what would happen to me if I didn’t,” even though he knows the worst Shuri would do is scold him.

“Good,” she says anyway. “Would you like a glamour?”

“Please.” He doesn’t mind what his arm looks like uncovered, but not revealing it immediately sure can be beneficial. The look on people's faces when they slash against his arm and hit metal instead of sinking into flesh is priceless.

Shuri runs her hands from his shoulder to his fingertips, the illusion of skin weaving itself together before their eyes. “It should last you a month,” she says in the end.

"Thank you."

She nods at him and turns her attention to Steve.

“This is my friend,” Bucky says, facing him too, and he has to smile at the way Steve’s jaw has dropped a little while he was watching Shuri.

Steve clears his throat. “Steve Rogers, Your Highness,” he says with a small bow.

“Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers,” Shuri says with a smile. “Take a seat.”

They do, Bucky sitting next to Shuri, and Steve sitting next to him. Although Steve seemed nervous before, he doesn’t let it show now, giving Bucky a soft smile when their eyes meet. He kind of looks like he belongs in the fine room, and Bucky wonders if he would have dressed up if he had the chance. Steve in fine silks would be a sight to behold.

“Is there something we need to attend to, or did you come by to say hi?” Shuri asks.

Bucky turns to her, realizing belatedly he’d been staring at Steve. He clears his throat.

“Nothing important. I wanted to see how you’re doing. You said you had a difficult morning?” When Shuri’s gaze skips from him to Steve, he adds, “Steve is a friend. You can trust him.”

“How did you two meet?” she asks.

Bucky turns to Steve for help, and he laughs. “Don’t look at me! I don’t remember, either. We were babies.”

“We grew up together,” Bucky explains.

Shuri’s eyebrows go up. “How long ago was that?”

Bucky exchanges another look with Steve. Maybe he should have warned him not to talk about this, at least not before they got their story straight. They can’t just tell anyone Steve is a vampire; they’d get chased out of any home, out of any kingdom even.

“A few decades ago,” Steve says carefully. It’s true, though he’s conspicuously not being specific. “I won’t lie to you. You’re Bucky’s friend—”

“Bucky?”

“That’s my name,” Bucky says. “I guess my parents didn’t name me White Wolf,” he says with a wry smile.

“It comes from Buchanan,” Steve clarifies. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky tries to not look surprised at that. He hadn’t even asked Steve for his full name. _Bucky_ just felt right, and he hadn’t felt the need to ask what it was short for, or for the family name that was given to him by people who no longer lived.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Shuri replies. “Harder to put in a song than White Wolf.”

“Certainly,” Bucky says with a little laugh.

They’re all quiet for a moment, whatever Steve’s speech was going to be cut off by the tangent about Bucky’s name. Steve clears his throat and speaks, picking his words carefully.

“Bucky is my friend,” he says. “The best friend I’ve ever had. It’s been my job, for as long as I remember, to protect him.” Bucky’s eyebrows rise at that, but Steve pointedly doesn’t look at him, keeping his eyes on Shuri. “Even though we were separated for a long time, that hasn’t changed. The protection I offer extends to those he loves. I am not a threat to you, Your Highness. I’d rather be an asset.”

Shuri mulls over his words, gaze shifting to Bucky again. He hates himself for putting her in that position, having to trust someone suspicious on his word, and he’s relieved when she finally nods.

“When did you find each other?” Shuri asks, and as she eats, Bucky tells her about that night at the hut.

“So this is still very new?” she asks when she finds out it’s only been a month since then.

“For me, yes,” Bucky says. “The memories I have of my childhood are few, and hazy at best. But being around him helps me remember.”

Shuri puts her fork down and gives him a serious look. “I might be able to help you with that.”

“With what? Remembering?”

“Yes.”

Bucky shakes his head. He doesn’t want to admit this in front of Steve, but… “There are things I’d rather not remember.”

“They might come back to you anyway,” Shuri says gently. “Even if you don’t try.”

Bucky nods. Steve places his palm on Bucky’s arm, the touch light but comforting.

“I’ll deal with them as they come.”

“The offer stands if you change your mind,” Shuri says, and doesn’t press the matter further once Bucky nods.

“Are you a healer, Your Highness?” Steve asks, trying to change the subject.

Shuri nods. “It is not the only thing I do. But I have found ways to help others in my studies.”

“She’s brilliant,” Bucky says. Shuri smiles a little and neither agrees nor disagrees. Bucky expects her to roll her eyes, but she doesn’t. 

There seems to be something different about her. She seems more mature now than the last time he saw her, though she’s still barely twenty.

“You’re staring, Wolf,” she says quietly. “Ask me whatever question is on your mind.”

He hesitates, but then does exactly what she asked. “Are you alright?”

Shuri takes a deep breath, then nods. She doesn’t say anything for a long time.

Steve places his hand on Bucky’s arm again. Bucky turns to him, and Steve smiles at him before he addresses Shuri. “With your permission, Your Highness, I’d like to take a little walk around the palace. This is my first time visiting Wakanda, and I’m quite fascinated by the architecture.” 

_Subtle._

Shuri nods, and Steve gives Bucky’s arm a squeeze before he gets up. One of the guards leaves along with him, presumably to keep him out of trouble.

When they’re alone, Bucky leans forward in his chair. “Can I help?”

Shuri chuckles sadly. “You don’t even know what’s wrong.”

He shrugs. “I’d still like to help.”

She takes a deep breath. “It’s family issues.”

“Is your mother well?” She nods. “Is T’Challa?”

She nods again, but squeezes her eyes shut and takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t push her, just waits for her to speak when she is ready.

“It seems that fate saw fit to bring back important people to both of us.” Bucky raises his eyebrows, curious about what she means. “We recently found out that N’Jobu, my father’s brother… He didn’t die the way we thought he did. It was my father who saw fit to kill him, deciding he was dangerous to Wakanda.” Shuri shakes her head. “N’Jobu had a son. He came to seek justice for his father, for what was taken from him. He challenged T’Challa for the throne.”

Bucky stays silent, giving her time to choose her words and tell him everything at her own pace.

“We nearly lost him, Wolf,” she whispers, shutting her eyes tight. “He prevailed in the end, but we nearly lost him.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” he says, at a loss for what to say to comfort her. She nods.

“Our cousin was hesitant at first, but then he let us heal him from his wounds. He agreed to let T’Challa show him Wakanda. They’re spending time in the countryside, along with Mother.”

“So you’re taking care of business here alone?” he asks. She nods.

Bucky takes a deep breath. He knows Shuri is smart and more than capable, but so much responsibility falling on her shoulders, especially after going through something so difficult…

“Have you even had time to cry it all out?” he asks, and she laughs, tears coming to her eyes unbidden.

“If I start crying, I’ll never stop.” She wipes at her eyes before the tears have a chance to spill over her cheeks. “There’s no time for that.”

“Make time for it,” Bucky insists softly. “How long until they come back?”

“I’m not sure,” she says. “It’s been a couple of months. Might be a couple more, unless something happens that will require them to come back urgently.”

“You can take some time for yourself once your brother comes back.”

Shuri shakes her head. “I can’t leave him,” she whispers. “I only stayed because my mother insisted to go with them and get to know N’Jadaka. She feels guilty about what happened to him. We all do.”

“You had no idea he even existed.”

“I know. But I can’t not feel bad. He should have grown up with us. He shouldn’t have been alone, away from his home. If he decides to stay here, I can’t just take off as soon as he settles here. He’ll think I don’t trust him.”

“Do you?”

She shrugs. “I want to. It’s just difficult right now.”

“That’s completely understandable. You almost lost someone you love at his hand. It’s not wrong for you to feel uneasy.”

She nods. “I know that. I know all of it. And yet…”

“You went through a lot in a short amount of time. You should know better than anyone that a wound takes time to heal. And a little magic sometimes.”

Shuri laughs. “There’s no kind of magic yet invented that will fuse broken families back together.”

He shrugs. “Maybe you’ll be the one to invent it.”

She chuckles again. “Maybe.”

They finish the last of their food and go out of the dining room together. Shuri has a busy day ahead of her, and Bucky doesn’t want to distract her from her duties any longer. She hasn’t offered him to stay for a few nights like she usually does, and he wonders if she’s afraid she’ll crumble if she lets herself speak on her feelings any longer than she already has.

They find Steve a floor below, looking at the portrait of King T’Chaka that is still hanging near the entrance. Bucky goes to stand next to him, and Steve smiles.

“Everything good?” he asks quietly.

Bucky nods, even though he’s still worried. He looks at Shuri, who is examining her father’s portrait closely. If she’s conflicted about the way she sees him now, after finding out the truth about her uncle and her cousin, she doesn’t show it.

“He really hated this thing,” she murmurs instead, still looking at the painting.

“Your father?” Bucky asks.

“Yes. He threatened to take it off often.”

“Why didn’t he?” Steve asks.

“My mother thought he looked handsome in it,” she says, and Bucky chuckles.

“I’d say that’s reasonable,” Bucky says, and turns his smile to Steve. There’s something peculiar about Steve’s expression. Bucky doesn’t know what makes him look down, but when he does, he definitely catches Steve’s fingers twitching. While he’s looking at Bucky.

He knows exactly what that means. Yet, he has to ask. “What?”

Steve shrugs. “You look good.”

Bucky looks away, but he makes the mistake of looking at Shuri and her waggling eyebrows. He huffs.

“Did I tell you Shuri thought I was a murderer when we first met?”

Shuri swats at his shoulder, but Steve just blinks. “Aren’t you?”

“I guess it depends on your definition.”

“I’d say you murder things pretty often. It’s in your job description.”

“Things. Not people,” Bucky says, looking up at T’Chaka. From the corner of his eye he sees Steve’s jaw drop a little before he leans to look at Shuri past Bucky.

“We had eyewitnesses saying they’d seen the Witcher kill the King,” Shuri says calmly. “We weren’t going to take it lightly.”

“So what happened?”

“I managed to beg for a chance to prove my own innocence. And I did. Got to walk away with my life. And something extra,” he says, wiggling his metal fingers.

“What about the witnesses?” Steve asks. “What had they… witnessed?”

“A shifter,” Bucky says. “He’d taken my shape.”

“But why frame you?”

“I was a stranger at the time,” Bucky says with a shrug. “Wrong place, wrong time.”

“We were lucky it was you,” Shuri says. “If it had been someone else, we might have never found out the truth.”

Bucky shrugs again. Steve leans into his space a little, and Bucky vaguely wants to feel his arms around him.

“What’s done is done,” Bucky says. “We can just hope to be better tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” Shuri says. “Thank you for visiting, Wolf.”

“Thank you for having us. I’ll be back soon,” Bucky promises, squeezing her palm in both of his. She smiles.

“It was good to meet you, Steve,” she says.

“It was an honor, Your Highness.”

They leave as quietly as they came, but they are definitely walking closer to each other than they were on the way up. When they reach the market again, Bucky grabs Steve’s hand so they won’t be separated.

Steve laces their fingers together and holds on tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought the bard mentioned was a not-so-subtle reference to Jaskier and I have a whole AU in my head where he and Bucky are friends, you were super right.
> 
> TOMORROW: we go back to Mrachina for part 2 of "An old friend" so we can see how the rest of Steve and Bucky's "first" meeting went.


	3. An old friend, part II

Usually, the Wolf would just camp out and get back in the morning if he got a job done so late, but he doesn’t even suggest it this time. He’s not tired enough to sleep - all he did was have a ride through the forest - and summers here are a nightmare; riding through the day is near unbearable. Even the nights are too warm, and before he gets on Alpine, he starts tugging on his armor to remove it, knowing he’s free from danger now. Even if something does come at them, maybe his squishy flesh being exposed will trigger Steve’s protective instincts, and he’ll show off what he really is.

Of course, Bucky could just ask him. But where’s the fun in that?

The only thing Steve reveals for now is the dexterity of his fingers as he moves close to help with the straps on Bucky’s back. He doesn’t ask for permission and, curiously, it doesn’t feel like he needs it. Anyone else displaying such familiarity would have the Wolf reach for the hilt of his sword, but Steve doing it feels completely normal.

“Thanks,” he murmurs over his shoulder, and catches the corner of Steve’s mouth lifting as his armor goes loose enough to slip out of.

He wonders how to strap it to alpine for a moment, then puts it over the saddle.

“You’re not riding back?” Steve asks.

“No. She deserves a little break,” he says, petting over her mane.

Of course, the decision to not get on the saddle also lets him take Alpine’s reins in his hand and walk very close to Steve instead of having to look down at him the whole way back.

He wonders if Steve’s little smile is there because he’s seen through him, or because he’s just glad to have him so close. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

Bucky clears his throat. He nods towards the werewolf head. “I’d offer to free up your hands too, but…” he shrugs. “She doesn’t like it.”

“Nah, that’s alright. Wouldn’t want to get blood on her coat, anyway.”

Bucky nods. “I could take it if it gets too heavy.”

Steve rolls his eyes at him. “Please.”

The gesture is so familiar yet so disconnected from any context, it strikes him speechless for a moment.

“Buck? Is something wrong?” Steve asks, a little wrinkle of worry forming between his eyebrows, and Bucky shakes his head.

“If I hadn’t come out tonight,” he starts, “if I hadn’t met you…”

“You wouldn’t even know I was alive?” Steve finishes gently.

“I wouldn’t even remember you really existed,” he corrects. “I wouldn’t remember my own name.”

The urge to hug is visible in every inch of Steve’s body. Bucky shifts towards him a little, a silent permission, and Steve wraps an arm around him, keeping the hand holding the werewolf head away from Bucky.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Steve whispers. Bucky shrugs, and Steve takes it as a sign to pull away.

They finally start walking away from the hut. The moments between them have been stretching so long it feels like they’ve been here for hours, even though that can’t be true.

“I don’t remember it actually happening,” Bucky says, an attempt to comfort Steve. “I only know what came after.”

“So you’ve never been back home?”

“I don’t even remember where home is.”

“Bec Lacu.”

He shakes his head. “Never been there,” he says. “At least that I remember.”

“I guess you’re not missing much if it doesn’t bear any fond memories.”

“Does it bear fond memories for you? I remember raiders.”

Steve nods solemnly. “It took a while, but people were able to rebuild it.” He thinks about it for a moment. “It’s still home. It’s just not what it used to be. But I guess that’s also true for places that don’t get ravaged by enemy armies.”

“I guess so. Do you go back often?”

“Once in a while,” Steve says. “The people there know they can count on me, even if I’m a stranger now.”

“Did we… Did you have family?”

“Just my mom,” Steve says. “It’s why I could wear my father’s clothes. He wasn’t around to use them himself.”

“Did he leave?”

“No. He died when I was a baby.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Don’t worry. From the stories about him folks passed around, we were better off without him.”

Bucky nods. He doesn’t want to ask his next question.

In the end, he doesn’t have to.

“Do you remember your family?” Steve asks softly.

He shakes his head.

“Do you want me to tell you about them?”

“No,” Bucky says quickly. “Not now, at least.”

He feels guilty. He should want to hear about them, but he’s been doing well without his memories of them. What if hearing about them makes it all come back to him? What if it makes him miss them in a way that could never be satisfied because they won’t miraculously come back to him as Steve did?

Guilt is easier to live with than grief.

“Okay, Buck,” Steve agrees without argument. He’s quiet for a while before he gets his next question out. “But why did you remember _me_?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says honestly. “Because you’re you.”

It’s probably unfair to say that. Bucky is sure he loved his family and other people in his life, that they’re worth remembering. But Steve shines so bright, it makes sense for his image to cling to his mind the way nothing else could.

Steve looks away, clearly pleased with the answer.

“They took everything that I used to be,” he says quietly, drawing Steve’s attention back to himself. “At Kaer Morhen. You said I fell? In the mountains,” he says, and Steve nods. “I suppose the school was close, or at least the Witchers who found me had some means of transportation to it. They saved my life and then took it for themselves.” He shrugs again when Steve gives him a worried look. “Better than being dead, I imagine.”

“Definitely better to have you alive, Buck,” Steve assures him, and Bucky smiles.

“Right back at you,” he says. “I guess we were lucky that I was too old for the Witcher training to work on me as well as it did on others. They usually train kids who barely have any memories to wipe. Makes it easier to learn everything they need you to. To live without attachments.”

He realizes he’s never actually talked about this. The only ones who’d care would be other Witchers, and there’s no point telling them any of it when they know it better than him.

“Sounds lonely,” Steve says.

“It can be,” Bucky replies. “Do you travel alone, too? What brought you to Mrachina?” he asks, and Steve begins his story of traveling all over and helping out when he can, much like Bucky does.

Bucky just listens to him talk. It’s an intriguing story that he’s telling, but that’s not what he’s really focused on. He only hears Steve’s voice – the accent, the cadence, the way his laughter is a system of punctuation all on its own. He has had decades, a whole life without Bucky in it, and yet he’s still his Steve.

Walking with him under the moonlight is the safest the Wolf ever remembers feeling.

*

It’s too late to wake anyone when they get back to Mrachina, so Bucky just leads Steve up to the room he paid for in the village’s only tavern. It’s obvious that Steve can see well in the dark, but Bucky still leads him up by the sleeve, and Steve doesn’t complain.

“I could sleep on the floor if you wanna take the bed,” Bucky murmurs once they’re in the modest room.

“No way,” Steve replies. “You take it. I wake early, anyway.”

Bucky hesitates. “We can share?” He has a vague memory of them huddling close, but he doesn’t know if he can trust it. “I can take the side close to the wall.”

Steve thinks about it for a moment, then nods in agreement. They undress quickly, quietly. Bucky rotates his left arm until it detaches from his shoulder. Steve looks alarmed at the sound, and his eyes are wide as his gaze skips between Bucky and the arm. Bucky offers it to him for inspection, and Steve takes it in his hands almost reverently, turning it over like it’s something precious.

“How does it even work?” he whispers.

“Magic.”

Steve inclines his head to the side as if to say _Fair enough,_ and hands it back to him. Bucky places the arm in its case, tucking it near the bed, and they sneak under the covers without giving each other time to question it too much.

When Bucky turns on his side so there’s more space for both of them and finds that his face is inches away from Steve’s, he can’t help the laughter that escapes him. He places a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound, but that just makes him even gigglier, and soon the whole bed is shaking with stifled laughter.

“What?” Steve whispers, also huffing a laugh, his hand coming up to grab Bucky by the shoulder and shake him. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky whispers back, gasping for air. “You’re here,” he says helplessly.

Steve smiles softly. “Didn’t think Witchers could be so giggly before sleeping. All I’ve seen is paranoia and knives hidden under pillows.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, his breathing starting to calm. “You’ve met other Witchers?”

“Jealous that you’re not my first?”

“Very.”

Steve’s smile grows, but he just shrugs a shoulder. “I thought your hair would be all white,” he says, hand moving up from Bucky’s shoulder to play with a lock.

“It was when I first went through the trials,” Bucky says. “Started growing in patches afterward.”

“It’s nice.”

“Been told I look like a skunk.”

“By whom?!”

“A friend.”

Steve gasps. “You have other friends?”

“Jealous?”

“Extremely.”

Bucky huffs. He shuffles closer to Steve until he’s comfortable, assuming there will be no complaints since Steve’s hand is still on Bucky, and he closes his eyes.

“So do you actually turn into a white wolf?” Steve asks as soon as Bucky has relaxed.

He opens his eyes as slowly as possible, making sure to convey his annoyance. “Do I smell like dog to you?”

“No. You smell like horse.”

“And you smell like donkey.”

“You calling me an ass, Buck?”

“Calling you a dumbass.”

Steve kicks at him, and Bucky kicks back, and then they’re half-wrestling in the non-existent space on top of the bed, which means they’re pulling and pushing at each other uselessly and trying not to laugh too hard again. In the end, Steve manages to sneak his arm under Bucky, pulling him on top of himself, and wrapping his arms around him and that’s. Well.

“I’ll crush you,” Bucky says, unsure how else to escape the compromising position, unsure if he wants to escape it if Steve put him here on purpose.

“I’ll be fine,” Steve says, his words accompanied by a wheezy laugh, which brings back a terrible memory.

“Your lungs–”

“They’re better now,” Steve assures him quickly.

Bucky pushes away from the bed with his hand to look at him. “How do lungs just _get better_?”

“Magic.”

Bucky gives him an unimpressed look, and the smugness on Steve’s face finally makes him realize what’s happening.

He swallows. “Is this new?” he asks, feeling his face warm.

“Is what new?”

“The flirting.”

Steve pauses, clearly thinking about his answer.

“The feelings aren’t new,” he says carefully. “But the acting on it is.” He pauses. “We were young when I lost you, Buck.”

He nods, then flops back onto Steve to hear him laugh breathlessly again instead of having to think about this more.

Steve doesn’t move to get Bucky off of him, and eventually Bucky slides to his side on his own accord, still nestled close to Steve.

“Good night,” he says into Steve’s neck.

“Good night, Buck,” Steve replies, and Bucky drifts off soon.

*

When he wakes up, it’s not morning yet.

Steve gets out of bed very, very carefully, so Bucky does nothing to reveal he’s awake. He first thinks Steve is just getting up to have a drink of water, but then he hears the rustling of clothes, and though he doesn’t hear footsteps across the floor, there is the creak of the door, and just like that, Steve is gone.

The Wolf opens his eyes to take in the empty room and sighs.

He rolls onto his back and tries to swallow down his disappointment. Discovering someone from his past was a lot already; hoping for them to stay would be too much.

He forces himself not to think about it and falls back asleep.

*

The next time he wakes, it’s still not morning.

Steve is sliding back next to him, and Bucky is not awake enough to react in any way other than having his heart sleepily attempt to race at the realization that Steve didn’t leave him.

“Where’d you go?” Bucky murmurs.

“Nowhere,” Steve says. “I’m here, Buck. Go back to sleep.” He smells of dirt, of all things.

Bucky wants to know, but more than that just wants to let Steve hold him as he falls asleep, so that’s what he does in the end.

He can get everything out of him in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Bec Lacu - I looked into the etymology of Brooklyn for the name of Steve and Bucky's home. I thought it’d be funny if it really means “stream lake” as it seems at first glance but turns out it actually means “Broken land”. This didn’t stop me from putting “brook” (Bec) and “lake” (Lacu) in an Old English dictionary and then putting the two words next to each other. For a while I was tempted by Bec Flór as ‘flór’ means “the bottom of a lake, river, etc”, and I thought it would be a nice TWS reference, but then I became haunted by my Old English teacher’s lectures on cases and isn’t becflór redundant anyway since flór has the meaning of ‘bottom of a body of water’ inside it so becflór would literally mean “the brook’s bottom of the brook”? So in the end I went with the version of the name which is still nonsensical but is both closer to the sounds of Brooklyn and makes my head hurt less.  
> (reading this over has made me realize that ‘the bottom of the brook’ could also be the nickname of a character who is a bottom who comes from a place called Brook but let’s not dwell on that)  
> I don’t know why I put all this here since it’s relevant to my interests only, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.  
> 2\. Bucky’s arm is similar to how electrically powered prosthesis work IRL, but it’s powered by magic instead of electricity.  
> 3\. I know not all Witchers have white hair and Geralt is just a Very Special Boy, but I like the idea of the trials changing all Witchers’ hair colour, so that’s my canon now.


	4. An old friend, part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up right where last chapter left off!
> 
> EDIT (22 OCT 2020): The art from chapters 2 and 3 keeps disappearing for some reason, so I've added them to the top of the chapters instead of the bottom to see if they stick that way (the art for chapter 1 is at the top and has been fine). If you didn't see art in either of those chapters, please go back and take a look :)

When Bucky wakes up in the morning, the sun has already warmed the room enough to make him sticky with sweat.

“Ugh,” he says expressively, then nestles up even closer to the body next to him, as if that’ll help rather than make things worse.

The body shakes with silent laughter.

Bucky rises on his elbow to frown at Steve, but the effect is somewhat ruined by his hair covering half his face. Steve reaches up to push it back, and it’s as if a curtain lifts to reveal the sight of Steve smiling at him, soft and sweet. It makes it very hard to remain grumpy. More than that, it makes Bucky’s heart stutter, the realization that they just woke up next to each other.

Steve doesn’t speak, but his hand slides down, caresses Bucky’s cheek lightly before going to his neck. He presses the backs of two fingers at the base of his throat, and it takes Bucky a moment to realize he’s feeling the pulse that is now hammering against his skin.

That is. Interesting.

“You’re pretty unguarded for a Witcher,” Steve says when Bucky makes no move to avoid the touch.

Bucky hums. “Call me Witcher-adjacent.”

“That’s a mouthful.”

“Been called that before,” Bucky says, and Steve slides his hand down Bucky’s chest so he can push him away, huffing in mock disgust.

“You walked right into that one,” Bucky says as he rolls away, grinning at Steve as he gets up.

“And now I’m gonna walk right out,” Steve says. “I’ll go see the alderman for my reward, I won’t be long. We can decide what to do next when I come back,” he says.

He watches Bucky for a long moment, and Bucky can’t help but smile at his hesitation. “Yes, Steve, we can do that,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Steve says. “I won’t be long,” he repeats, slides his clothes on hastily and leaves.

Bucky stays in bed a while longer before he gets up too. He stretches lazily, knowing he’s not in a hurry to leave for once. He sits on the edge of the bed and stretches over the frame until he reaches the leather case his arm rests in. He didn’t clean it last night, knowing there wasn’t much to get off it, but he will do it now. It won’t do to have it tarnish and disappoint Shuri next time he sees her.

He takes his time cleaning every groove of the arm, between the fingers and the socket where it connects to his shoulder. It’s nice to do it for the sake of upkeep for once and not because he has to clean blood and various other substances off of it. It’s like sharpening his swords. It soothes him.

Steve does indeed come back soon, right when Bucky is sliding the arm in place, hissing as his nerves recognize their extension. Steve notices his reaction but doesn’t say anything, just pulls out one of the chairs by the table and sits down, watching Bucky as he wiggles his fingers and rotates his arm every which way to make sure it has connected properly.

“How did you lose it?” Steve asks in the end.

“The fall, I guess,” Bucky says. “I don’t remember how it happened.”

“Did the Witchers make this one for you?”

“No,” Bucky says. “A friend made it.”

“Another one?” Steve says with a grin.

“I got two whole friends,” Bucky confirms.

“Three, now.”

“Yeah.”

They look at each other for a long moment.

“Your turn,” Bucky says as he reaches into his bag to look for his comb.

“My turn to what?”

“Tell me what happened to you.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

Bucky gives him an unimpressed look, all while brushing his hair. It makes Steve deflate a little, but he still doesn’t speak. Bucky sighs and, once his hair is sufficiently untangled, he gets off the bed and goes to sit opposite Steve at the table. He watches Steve watch him put his hair up in a bun.

“You can tell me,” Bucky says in the end, crossing his arms over the table, and Steve sighs. He props his cheek on his palm, which somehow makes him look even younger than he already does.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says quietly.

“I won’t,” Bucky says, and Steve huffs in disbelief. Bucky takes a deep breath. “I know… I know that _I_ didn’t remember you, but something in me did. It’s been looking for you a long time. You’re dead wrong if you think I’m letting you go.”

Steve, though clearly moved, just inclines his head to the side. “I’m certainly one of those things.”

“What?”

“Dead.”

Bucky takes a moment to understand what he means, then to leaf through the encyclopedia of creatures in his head, but there is only one thing he knows of that is dead, corporeal and non-decaying all at the same time. “Vampire?” he guesses aloud.

“Yep.”

“No,” Bucky replies. It doesn’t make sense, he would have been able to feel the fact that he was a vampire - he was _hunting_ last night, for fuck’s sake - but higher vampires are not just immortal, they’re _ancient,_ and—

His confusion must have expressed itself as rejection on his face because Steve’s face falls and he leans back, ready to get up and leave, but Bucky reaches over the table to grab his forearm.

“No,” he says again. “I’m just trying to remember. Were you always one?”

“No,” Steve says. “Happened after… After you were gone.”

“How?” Steve shrugs. “You don’t remember?” Steve shrugs again.

Bucky understands he shouldn’t push him. He starts to pull his hand back, but Steve places a palm over it, holds it in place. His eyes implore him.

“You think I’ll leave because I hunt people like you,” Bucky says, and Steve nods. “Because you kill people?”

“Only bad ones.”

“Bad according to whom?”

“General consensus, mostly,” Steve says. “Sometimes I see things on the road that no one else sees, so I deal with them the way I see fit.”

Bucky nods. “And you drink their blood?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t.”

“Then whose blood do you drink?”

“No one’s.”

“So how do you survive?”

“I don’t need blood to survive,” Steve says.

“Right,” Bucky says. “Higher vampire. You don’t need it. It just feels good to you.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Bucky’s confusion is growing by the second. “So you’ve never even tried it?”

Steve shakes his head vehemently. “Never.”

“Why not?”

“Are you seriously asking me that? _You?_ ” Steve asks, nodding towards the wolf medallion Bucky hadn’t taken off, even in his sleep.

“Point,” Bucky says. “But you _have_ to at least have tried it.”

“I’ve come close once or twice,” Steve admits.

“What stopped you?”

“The fear that I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Bucky takes a moment to take it all in.

“So you… haven’t actually done anything that would justify me turning my back on you?”

“Guess not,” Steve mumbles. “But isn’t there a Witcher’s code or something that prohibits you from bonding with monsters?”

“No. And you’re not a monster,” Bucky says. “You’re living proof no such rule should ever exist.”

“But Buck…”

“What?”

“You should know that the people I came close with… It happened because I became close to _them._ ”

Bucky feels the ghost of Steve’s fingers over his throat, feeling for his pulse.

“So. The longer we’re together, the more you’ll want to…”

“Yes.”

The thing is. The idea is not entirely unappealing. He’s actually curious to know what it would feel like, letting Steve bite him and drink his blood. But he probably shouldn’t tell Steve that.

He shrugs lightly. “If you’re going to sip on someone, it’d better be me, right?” he says. “I’m stronger and heal faster than most.”

Steve huffs. “Are you actually considering this?”

 _Oh, yes,_ Bucky thinks. Outwardly, he shrugs.

Steve shakes his head. “Alright, then. Maybe we can try this. Sticking together,” he clarifies.

“ _Try,_ ” Bucky says with a laugh. He reaches his free hand to ruffle Steve’s hair. “You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, pal.”

Steve swats his hand away, but he’s grinning. Bucky is probably just imagining things, his brain forming a new picture with the new knowledge it was given, but Steve’s canines seem somewhat sharper than before.

“Have you tried animals?” he asks.

“For what?”

“Their blood.”

“Oh, yeah. Tasted like shit.”

“Hm. Maybe it depends on the animal.”

“I’m not going around trying out different kinds of animal blood like some rich fuck tasting wines.”

“Why not?” Bucky asks. “You have the time. It could be beneficial.”

“What do you know about it anyway?”

“Don’t you know? I’m an infamous butcher. Not in the traditional sense, but still.” He shrugs. “When blood sprays everywhere, it tends to get in your mouth.”

“Everywhere?” Steve shakes his head. “I should be there to lick you clean next time, get two jobs done in one.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Bucky says. “But I’m not sure it’ll work out too well for me in the end.”

“Afraid I’ll bite?”

“Afraid you won’t,” Bucky says. At Steve’s raised eyebrow, he continues. “If animal blood tastes bad, licking it off me will make it feel like _I_ taste bad. Wouldn’t want to create that association. Might hinder future endeavors.”

Steve takes a deep breath, and Bucky wonders if he really needs it, or if it’s purely an emotional reaction.

“You might be the death of me,” Steve says.

“I think we established nothing can actually kill you,” Bucky says. “Not even me.”

“Not for your lack of trying,” Steve says. He raises Bucky’s metal hand to his lips and presses a little kiss to it.

It would be so easy. To lift up from the chair and lean over the table and kiss him.

But it’s too soon. Just because Bucky knows he will stay, that doesn’t mean Steve won’t reconsider it down the road and leave him.

He just caresses Steve’s cheek, enjoying the soft sound of his thumb scratching over Steve’s beard.

“Would you like a bath?” Steve asks after a quiet long moment.

“Gods, yes,” Bucky groans, and Steve laughs.

“Come on,” Steve says and gets up, not letting go of Bucky’s hand. “The alderman is letting us have the bathhouse to ourselves as a reward.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“You were the one who wanted to _talk._ ”

Bucky groans. “We could have talked _in the bath._ ”

“Not sure I’d wanna be naked for that conversation.”

“Why? I can’t hurt you.”

“But I could hurt you,” Steve says quietly.

“Oh,” Bucky says, then smirks. He pats Steve’s cheek. “Cute of you to think you could get past my defenses,” he says and goes to get his bags.

“I already have,” Steve says, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I meant in a _real_ fight.”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t beat you?”

“Because you wouldn’t _want_ to,” Bucky says, opening the door.

He doesn’t turn back, but he smirks as he hears Steve grumbling behind him.


	5. Until further notice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI, I had some issues with embedding the art for this fic - the art would literally just disappear shortly after I'd update the link to it. I think it's fixed now so please make sure to take a look at the art on chapters 1-3 if you didn't see the art before. [Click here](https://twitter.com/inflomora_art/status/1319321094181015560) if you'd like to see and share all three artworks on twitter.
> 
> This chapter is set about 2 months after "An old friend".

Contrary to what Steve said about horses, Alpine ends up liking him.

Enough to let him ride on her for half an hour, at least.

“Feels weird,” Steve murmurs, and Bucky snorts.

“Haven’t you ever been on a horse before?”

“Not _before_ ,” Steve says. “We had mules back home, but they were for work, not for riding.”

“But you have ridden a horse?”

“Not for more than a couple of minutes at a time.”

Steve pets Alpine’s neck like he’s trying to make sure she won’t throw him off her back, then quickly withdraws his hand when she swings her head to the side, irritated.

Bucky laughs. “Don’t tease him,” Bucky admonishes, and she snorts quietly.

“Does she actually understand what you’re saying?”

“I’ve chosen to believe she does.”

“But she’s not a magic horse or anything?”

“What the fuck is a magic horse?”

“I don’t know!” Steve says. “She seems to be communicating with you.”

“She’s clever,” Bucky says simply.

Steve considers that. “Clever enough to know something that can easily outrun her is currently taking a free ride on her back? And to be annoyed by that?” he asks casually.

“You can outrun her?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, like it’s obvious.

“Then why have we been _walking_ everywhere?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “Might seem suspicious if we encounter people on the road. You don’t see someone keeping up speed with a galloping horse every day.”

“I guess not,” Bucky says. “Did you actually walk everywhere when you were alone, too?”

Steve shakes his head. “Easier to escape the attention when I’m alone. Even if someone saw me, I’d be far away before they even had the time to question it.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Just picturing it. A vaguely human-shaped blur passing you by on a forest path. You must have scared some people shitless.”

Steve lets out a little laugh. “I probably have.” Bucky raises an eyebrow up at him, but Steve is looking ahead. “I think this is it.”

The narrow path they’re following is coming to an end, and Bucky can see the house they’ve been pointed towards come into view. It’s probably too big to be called _cozy,_ but there is a certain charm to it, and if he didn’t know it’d been recently repaired from ruins, he’d assume it has looked this way for years. The rose garden in the front looks lovingly tended to, and the sounds of music and conversation coming from inside stretch out an inviting hand towards them.

“Doesn’t seem too ominous,” Steve says.

“It could be nothing.”

“Georgi didn’t seem to think so.”

“Georgi was described as a drunken fool by nearly everyone we spoke to,” Bucky points out.

“And yet,” Steve says. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Bucky agrees.

It could very well be nothing. Georgi, an inhabitant of the village this remotely planted house technically belongs to, couldn’t seem to tell them anything about the new owners other than they were _strange._ They’d come out of nowhere, the two men, coin dripping out of their pockets, and claimed this long-abandoned home. They rebuilt it themselves, faster than any two people ever could on their own, Georgi claimed. Their names were Thibaut and Laurent, and they’d said they liked this part of Temeria, wanted to settle here and live a peaceful life. It could be as simple as that.

Or they could have much more nefarious plans that would require them to settle in a secluded little house nearby a secluded little village so that no one could report them to the authorities or mess with them in any other way.

“We’ll be on our guard,” Bucky says as they near the entrance of the house. “You have nothing to be scared of, right? Nothing can hurt you.”

“But they could hurt _you,_ ” Steve says, predictably, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I’ll take care of Alpine,” he says before Steve can argue further. “You go introduce yourself. _My lord,_ ” he adds, and Steve huffs as he gets off Alpine.

He definitely still isn’t happy about their plan for him to play a nobleman and Bucky his guard, no matter how hard he’d blushed - good to know vampires could still blush - at Bucky saying Steve is prettier because his skin is unscarred. Although Steve had argued Bucky was _also_ pretty, scars and all, he had to agree that it made more sense for Bucky to play the warrior of the two.

And Bucky was right. Steve in fine silks sure is a sight to behold.

So here they are.

With a nod, Steve heads for the open entrance to the house, and Bucky leads Alpine behind the house. He finds a little shelter clearly meant for keeping animals, though there are none present at the moment.

“We won’t be long,” he promises, and Alpine nuzzles into his hand before he goes.

The door is still open, and he enters cautiously. He doesn’t see Steve right away, but as he steps into the well-lit hallway, it’s easy to tell which room all the people have gathered in. Bucky stands at the threshold for a moment, observing.

It’s a richly decorated dining room, and Bucky takes a second to wonder if the newcomers brought all the vases and figurines and candlesticks with them from wherever they’d come from, or if they were all gifts from the villagers. Most of them are here tonight, he knows - they’re all wearing their best clothes, which is not saying much, but they clearly meant to impress their hosts. Bucky can tell why. A tall man who clearly doesn’t belong in this crowd spots him and, with a smile and a couple of words to his companions, he heads Bucky’s way to greet him.

Bucky takes a couple of steps into the room so that he’s not awkwardly standing in the doorway when they meet. He appraises the man as he nears him, and stupidly feels like he belongs in a fairy tale, what with his golden hair and broad shoulders and general impressiveness. He’s wearing armor that looks more ceremonial than battle-ready, though judging by the bulk underneath it, Bucky is not sure the man would _need_ armor when he fought. His long red cape flows behind him as he walks, people easily making way for him, and Bucky is suddenly glad he’s supposed to be a lowly bodyguard tonight. Not even the finest clothes could make him look half as regal as this man.

“Good evening,” the man speaks, voice deep and warm, and Bucky finds himself smiling despite the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy that’s taken over him in the mere presence of this man.

“Evening,” he says with a small bow, and the man grins at him.

“My name is Thibaut,” the man says and offers his hand. Bucky shakes it, expecting the man to all but crush his hand, but his grasp is much gentler than that. “I don’t think I have seen you around Zverino.”

“No, you haven’t. We’re not from here, just passing by.”

“We?”

Bucky nods and looks around. “He should be here somewhere. My—”

“There you are,” a honey-sweet voice he vaguely recognizes as Steve’s reaches his ears before he can finish his sentence.

Bucky starts to turn around, but before he can, a warm hand settles at the back of his neck as Steve stands by him, and he’s suddenly unsure what to do.

He finishes his slow turn to the side and sees Steve’s eyes gleaming with a strange light he doesn’t recognize. Bucky’s stomach clenches lightly, but not for fear of Steve; he fears what someone might have done to charm him.

He raises his eyebrows. _Did someone get to you already?_

Steve somehow reads his desperate thoughts, and his gaze changes a little, urging Bucky to play along. His thumb caresses the side of Bucky’s throat soothingly.

Bucky swallows.

“Hi,” he says, and he wishes the breathiness in his voice were an act instead of an entirely sincere response to having Steve’s hands on him.

“Hey,” Steve says, the softest smile on his face. He pulls Bucky close enough to touch their foreheads together, and Bucky closes his eyes on instinct. He clutches at Steve’s shirt, not knowing what else to do with his hands.

“We’re being rude to our host,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve pulls away slowly, as if it takes him a lot of effort to do so. Bucky still isn’t sure he isn’t under some sort of influence, so he keeps his eyes on him even as Steve turns to Thibaut.

“My apologies,” Steve says and smiles politely, though his tone is cold. “I met your brother just outside. He was kind enough to _welcome_ me into your home.”

Thibaut sighs, getting the implications of Steve’s words while Bucky remains lost.

“My brother can be very protective.”

“So can I,” Steve says, all but baring his teeth, and moves to stand even closer to Bucky, hand sliding from his neck to his hip so he can pull him close. Bucky does his best to keep his expression neutral despite the countless _whatthefuck_ s running through his mind, trusting Steve to handle the conversation.

“I can assure you there is no need to be,” Thibaut says mildly, mindful of the curious looks they’re getting. He lowers his voice. “We’re not here to cause any harm. Certainly not here to steal anyone away.”

_Steal away?_

“Just keep your hands off him,” Steve says, then hurries to add, “off everyone in here.”

“This is nothing but a dinner to thank all our new neighbors for how welcoming they’ve been since my brother and I arrived,” Thibaut says, tone carefully measured. “I will thank you not to insult me by assuming the worst of me while you are under my roof.”

They stare daggers at each other for a long moment, and then Steve nods tersely.

Thibaut nods in reply. His gaze softens when he looks back to Bucky.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Bucky,” he offers, and automatically gives Thibaut his hand when Thibaut offers his, thinking he wants to shake again. Instead of that, Thibaut presses a small kiss to the back of it, making a point to glance towards Steve as he does it. “I hope you will join our guests and have a pleasant evening. A few people from the village were kind enough to help us prepare a proper feast. Let me know if there is anything you need.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says, a little dazed, and watches Thibaut walk away. As soon as they’re alone, Bucky grabs Steve by the collar of his shirt and drags him further away from curious ears.

“What the _fuck_ ,” he hisses, pushing Steve into a column that gives them some cover from the other guests.

“They’re higher vampires,” Steve spits out with disdain. “Thibaut and his brother.”

Things make a little bit more sense now. But still… “Mighty haughty of you to assume that makes them evil.”

Steve huffs. “They’re clearly here looking for something.”

“So? Instead of doing what we agreed to, you just decided to fuck the plan and piss all over me to show them I’m yours?”

Steve looks at him like Bucky is the ridiculous one. “They’d want you if I didn’t claim you.”

“ _So_?”

He has the audacity to look _hurt._ “You’d want to go with them?”

“Go where, you ass?” Bucky hisses, and shakes Steve a little when he offers no reply. “You think I’m here looking for a man? Last time I checked, we were doing a job.”

Steve raises his chin, stubbornly refuses to back down. “I know vampires. They’ll want you.”

“So fucking what?”

Steve’s jaw clenches, and Bucky’s drops.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking jealous,” he realizes.

“And you’re _so_ enjoying it,” Steve accuses, and Bucky wants to deny it, but he can’t keep the corners of his mouth from curling up.

The tension between them shifts completely then, and Bucky feels himself flush as Steve just _looks_ at him for a long moment.

“So what’s the plan?” he says in the end. “We pretend I’m yours?”

“Yes,” Steve says, and has to clear his throat before he continues. “Vampires respect their kin’s claim on humans. Usually.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So they won’t try to… seduce you.”

“Because they think you’re already sucking me off on the regular.”

“Not how I’d put it,” Steve sputters, then rolls his eyes even before Bucky can ask him exactly how he would _put it._ “You’re a nightmare and I hate you.”

Bucky grins and slides his hands up until he can hug Steve around the neck, pressing their bodies close. “I know,” he whispers. “Try not to act like it, though.”

“Such a hardship,” Steve whispers, and Bucky smiles and steps back.

“So we act like you’ve claimed me to make sure they don’t touch me, and we’ll stay long enough to figure out if they’re a danger to anyone.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Good of you to share it with me before you acted.”

“Not like I needed to,” Steve says. “You know what I’m thinking.”

“Still a bad idea to expect me to catch on instead of talking to me. You could have pulled me aside and told me what they are.”

“Not this time,” Steve murmurs.

“Why?”

“I just saw you talking to him and I…” he trails off, shrugging.

Steve saw Bucky was talking to another vampire and couldn’t even think of doing anything else before he’d scared the potential opponent away.

That’s a lot to think about.

Instead of thinking about it, Bucky nuzzles into Steve’s cheek briefly before he takes his hand and makes a step back towards the crowd.

“We’re being weird,” he says. “We should be mingling so that we don’t look suspicious.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, though he sounds a little dazed, and Bucky bites back a smile.

People have started choosing seats around the table, done with their initial conversations, and Steve somehow manages to claim them two spots close to the head of the table despite everyone else pushing to be closer to their hosts. Steve doesn’t let go of Bucky’s hand for a while, his thumb rubbing over the back of his palm, and Bucky has to wonder if it’s a mindless gesture of affection, or if Steve is subconsciously trying to erase all trace of Thibaut’s lips on Bucky’s skin. The other man was obviously trying to tease Steve as he kissed Bucky’s hand, and Bucky doesn’t know if he should be annoyed or flattered by how well it seemed to work.

Laurent has come into the dining room, taking the seat at his brother’s right hand. He and Thibaut don’t really look alike, Laurent slimmer than his brother and dark-haired, and Bucky wonders if they’re related by blood or if they found each other in their travels.

Although he aims a cold look at Steve when he sees him at the table, Laurent is friendly and charming as he talks to the other dinner guests. There is some tension both in him and in Thibaut, but they don’t look like they’re bracing for an attack on someone. They don’t seem too bothered at his and Steve’s presence either, so Bucky doubts the brothers were planning on feasting on the villagers tonight. By all means, the event seems to be exactly what Thibaut described - a gesture to thank the villagers for their kindness.

Still, both he and Steve remain alert, only speaking when spoken to, and Thibaut and Laurent don’t seem to be surprised when they’re the last two guests remaining.

“We can speak freely now,” Thibaut says as he and Laurent come back inside the dining room after wishing the last of their guests good night. “Please, sit closer,” he urges, clearing the table at the two spots on the left of him.

Bucky doesn’t miss the fact that Steve places himself between Bucky and Thibaut. Protective, Bucky knows, but also possessive.

Bucky reaches underneath his collar and pulls out the Wolf medallion that has been resting under his shirt all night. Laurent arches an eyebrow as he sees it.

“A Witcher and a vampire,” he says. “How does that work?”

“Pretty well. At least so far,” Bucky says. He looks at Steve, who is looking like he’s trying very hard to suppress a grin, and Bucky offers him his hand again. Steve takes it and twines their fingers together.

“You don’t have any marks on you,” Laurent says, very obviously looking at Bucky’s neck. Steve squeezes his hand harder.

“They’re not where just anyone could see them,” Bucky replies before Steve can say something. He glances down towards his legs and squirms in his seat before he meets Laurent’s gaze again. “It wouldn’t do to have a Witcher wearing teeth marks around his neck and looking smug about it.” At Laurent’s raised eyebrow, Bucky shrugs. “I heal fast. The marks are small enough to not leave a scar. We have to… reapply them often.”

Laurent laughs, but Bucky is distracted by Steve digging the fingers of his other hand a little above Bucky’s knee. Bucky meets his eyes and has to take a few moments just to _breathe_ at the intensity of Steve’s gaze.

Bucky knows he’s teasing too much, but _Steve started it._ Bucky would have been happy pretending to be the guard of Lord Steven Rogers if they’d gone along with the plan, but Steve had decided for both of them that they wouldn’t be pretending to be someone else. Bucky might be embellishing a little, but it’s not like Thibaut and Laurent are going to ask him to strip and see there’s no bite marks to speak of. They’re fine.

As long as Steve contains himself and doesn’t actually bite him there and then, they’ll be fine.

Thibaut clears his throat. “As thrilling as this conversation is,” he says with a little smile, “I would very much like to clear some things up and make sure there is no reason for us to fight.”

Steve takes a moment to take a deep breath, eyes still boring into Bucky’s, before he turns and leans back in his seat.

“Were you bitten recently?” Laurent asks him, something akin to sympathy in his voice.

“How did you know I was bitten?” Steve says.

Laurent shrugs. “You’d have a little more control over yourself if you’d been born like this.”

“I was bitten more than seventy years ago,” Steve says. “I’ve had more than enough time to learn to _control myself._ ”

Laurent laughs, and Steve bares his teeth a little.

“My brother means no offense,” Thibaut says. “You will see it for yourself as you get older. Seventy years will mean nothing to you when you’ve lived for millennia.”

Bucky and Steve exchange a look, the information that they’re in the presence of not one but two people who have lived for _thousands of years_ settling over them.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asks them outright. “What does Temeria have to offer to someone like you?”

“Peace,” Thibaut says. “Anonymity.” He settles back in his chair and takes a deep breath. “My real name is Thor Odinson, and this is my brother Loki. We hail from Asgard.”

“I thought Asgard was a myth,” Bucky says. “No one has ever been able to find it.”

“That was by design,” Thor says. “There were enchantments placed around our island long before even we were born that made it nearly impossible for anyone to reach our kingdom.”

“Did that also mean no one could leave it?” Steve asks.

Thor inclines his head to the side. “They could, though it was difficult. But not many people wanted to. Asgard was beautiful and rich. We knew how the outside world looked upon our kind, so it was safer for most to remain on Asgard.”

“But it’s not safe anymore?” Bucky inquires cautiously. Neither Thor nor Loki meet his gaze.

“Our home was destroyed,” Thor says quietly.

“By whom?” Steve asks.

“Our sister,” Loki spits out.

“More or less,” Thor adds.

They don’t offer any more details of the story, so Bucky assumes it all happened fairly recently, the wound of it still raw.

“Is there any reason you chose to come to Temeria?” Bucky asks.

“None other than the fact that it is relatively close to shore. We only had a few ships’ worth of our people survive the attack on Asgard, but that was still too many for all of us to settle in the same place. We spread out among the neighboring kingdoms so we could still communicate easily and meet up. We would like to still see our people once in a while, keep our traditions alive, even if our home is no more.”

“Are all your people vampires?” Bucky asks, a little terrified at the idea of hundreds of vampires settling nearby.

“Some of them are,” Thor says. “But all of them have mates. They keep each other satisfied.”

“And if they don’t?” Bucky says, trying to ignore the way Steve’s head turned towards him as soon as Thor mentioned mates.

“I assure you our people will keep in line,” Thor says. “If they don’t, we’ll deal with it ourselves.”

Bucky looks to Loki, who nods in agreement to his brother’s words.

“And who keeps you two in line?” Steve asks.

“You two, evidently,” Loki says.

Steve looks about a second away from baring his teeth again, so Bucky squeezes his hand to distract him.

“I wouldn’t object to that,” Thor says, once again drawing attention to himself before the air gets too tense. “I can give you my word that we won’t harm any of the villagers.”

“Not unless they want us to,” Loki says with a little smile, and Thor rolls his eyes.

“If you hear of any incidents, I won’t blame you if you come back to Zverino and hold us accountable. But if you hear nothing, you leave us alone so we can build a peaceful life for ourselves. That’s all I ask from you.”

“In return, I’ll be careful not to mention the strange rumors going around about a certain Wolf Witcher joining the enemy and coupling with…” Loki puts his hand on his chest in mock shock, “a _vampire._ Word of something like this spreading will surely make it even harder for Witchers to find work than it is now.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Bucky says, though Loki’s words make discomfort settle in his stomach. He told Steve that there are no rules that forbid Witchers from befriending so-called monsters, and it’s not a lie, but he doesn’t doubt that most of them would look down on him for being with Steve. “As long as we behave, we leave each other be.”

He looks to Steve, who nods, albeit a little reluctantly.

“It’s settled, then,” Thor says. He gets up, which prompts the rest of them to rise, too. “Friends until further notice.”

He smiles and offers his hand to Steve. Steve huffs but smiles too and shakes it. “Friends until further notice.”

They both look a little sour about it, but Steve shakes Loki’s hand next, and Thor shakes Bucky’s.

Thor and Loki walk them to the door, and Steve waits for Bucky outside the house as he goes to get Alpine. She perks up as she sees him, happy to leave after being left alone for hours.

When he leads her out, she doesn’t object to Loki coming over to pet her, and Bucky has to keep from laughing at how offended Steve looks.

“It was good to meet you, Witcher Bucky,” Thor says. “You’re welcome to visit us anytime.”

“I’m sure we will,” Bucky says. They both know he means they will be checking on the villagers, but he does hope that, with time, they can indeed become friends. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

As they walk away from Thor and Loki’s home, silence settles between them, and Bucky feels the weight of the night pressing down on him.

He hasn’t denied his feelings for Steve, and he knows how Steve feels for him, but neither of them has truly acted on any of it yet. It has all been gentle hints, and it feels like a line was crossed tonight and they can’t really go back to ignoring the tension between them.

“You made it way too easy for them to tease you,” he tells Steve, who sputters in response, his own thoughts clearly racing from everything that happened.

“Did I make it easy for _you_?” he asks, and Bucky shrugs.

“I’m allowed to tease you. I’m your _mate._ ” Steve lets out a long breath at that, and Bucky laughs. “Yes, I know, it’s not official yet. What does _mate_ entail, anyway? Is it just a relationship but one of them is a vampire? Or does it require regular blood-sucking? Or maybe—” his rambling is cut off by Steve crowding him against Alpine’s side, his jaw clenched and breathing heavy.

He swallows, then puts his hands on Bucky’s hips. Bucky is ready to wrap his arms around Steve, but then Steve just lifts him up effortlessly, and Bucky flails a little as Steve sets him on Alpine’s back. Under Bucky’s confused gaze Steve takes Alpine’s reins in hand and leads her forward at a brisk pace, all the while muttering about what a _brat_ Bucky is.

Bucky can’t really argue with that assessment, so he lets Steve walk it off all the way to their lodging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki’s names were chosen with this [Temerian name generator.](https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/the-witcher-temerian-names.php) I didn’t realize there was a vampire in Twilight named Laurent until I was done with this chapter, so that's just a hilarious coincidence.
> 
> Zverino is a real village in Bulgaria, though I have never visited it. The name is derived from the word ‘zvyar/zver’ (звер), which means ‘beast’.


	6. An old friend, part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter is short and sweet, but tomorrow we go out with a bang (hehe) with chapter 7, which is the longest of all, and a short epilogue.

The bathhouse turns out to be less of a _bathhouse_ and more of a regular house divided into several bathrooms. Still, Bucky has no complaints. After divesting himself of his clothes and arm again, he conspicuously sinks into the biggest tub in the room they chose, relaxing back with a groan. He closes his eyes for a long moment, and he doesn’t open them when he hears Steve get in the same tub and sit opposite him, but he doesn’t stop a smirk from tugging on his lips.

“We used to do this,” Bucky says, and opens his eyes. “Share baths.” It’s a statement, but he’s not entirely sure of it, so he waits for Steve’s response.

“Yeah, we did,” Steve says with a soft smile. “Didn’t have to wash guts off back then, though.”

“We’re not washing guts off now,” Bucky points out. “You barely had a drop on you last night.”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve had a while to practice.”

“How old are you now?”

“Close to a hundred.”

Bucky whistles. “Big number. Are you gonna celebrate?”

“Are you?” Steve asks, something in his tone reminding Bucky of a Witcher friend he hasn’t seen in a while. “You’re a year older than me.”

“Fuck,” Bucky says, and Steve laughs. “Guess I lost more time than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought I’d been like this for seventy years,” Bucky says, gesturing at his eyes and hair. “So I’d be ninety at most if you count my previous life. But maybe the trials fucked me up more than I thought. What?” he asks when a complicated expression crosses Steve’s face.

“Nothing,” Steve says, and Bucky splashes water in his face. “Hey!”

“Tell me,” Bucky demands, and Steve grumbles but relaxes back in his spot.

“I’m just sorry for what happened to you,” he says quietly.

“Like it’s any worse than what happened to you?”

Steve shakes his head. “This was a gift,” he says, gesturing at himself. “More or less. It was painful for a while, yeah, but it made me stronger in the end.”

“So did my training.”

“I guess,” Steve says. “But it wasn’t given to you unconditionally.”

“And the bite was given to you with no expectations?”

Steve shrugs again, and Bucky sighs. One day he’ll get the story out of Steve, but it seems like it won’t be today.

“The Witchers trained me to be useful to them, yes, but they didn’t make me do anything against my will. I did it because it felt like a way to repay my debt to them. They saved my life when they didn’t have to. It’s not like I had anywhere to go or anything else to do after.” Steve lowers his gaze at that, and sadness stabs at Bucky’s chest. “I would have looked for you,” he says. “If I knew.”

Steve smiles, albeit a little sad. “I know.” He takes a deep breath. “If I knew, I wouldn’t have stopped.”

_I know,_ Bucky thinks, but instead of saying it, he just shifts in the water until he’s sitting next to Steve rather than opposite him and relaxes with Steve’s arm behind his neck.

In the quiet moments that follow, Bucky takes the time to actually think about all this, about all the twists and turns in their lives that made it possible for them not only to survive but actually to be reunited again.

It’s Steve’s turn to ask him what’s on his mind.

“It feels too easy,” Bucky says. “To be here with you. Like we’ve been together all this time. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“So am I,” Steve says. “I thought about you often, dreamed that I’d saved you, and you were still with me. But sometimes I was selfishly grateful that you weren’t there, and I didn’t have to disappoint you when you saw what I’d become.”

“I think it’s pretty clear I’m not disappointed in any way.”

“Yeah, but I spent years convinced you would be,” Steve says with a mirthless little laugh. “I was prepared to do a lot more groveling and begging for you not to leave me. Still am.”

“As much as I’d love to see what that looks like, I don’t think it will be necessary,” Bucky says. “Not sure I’m worth it, anyway.”

“You are.”

“You don’t know that,” Bucky insists. “We’ve been apart much longer than we’ve been together. You don’t know me. Not really.”

“You’re still my Bucky,” Steve says, shrugging a shoulder at Bucky’s annoyed look. “I know you’re not the same person. Neither am I. Even if we’d had a normal life, we wouldn’t be the same people as hundred-year-old men that we were at sixteen. Doesn’t mean we wouldn’t still love each other.”

“I guess.”

Steve smiles. “You’re just trying to make this difficult because it’s what you expected. It’s what we’re both used to. But I wanna accept this, Buck. I wanna accept that after all these years, after everything we’ve been through, that we can find each other and get along that easily. I want to have you back and not question it.”

“I want that, too,” Bucky says quietly. There’s still a small part of him that is telling him he should be suspicious, that he shouldn’t trust anything this good, but he does his best to stifle it.

“Then we should allow ourselves to have it.”

Bucky nods. He wants to move even closer and hold Steve, but if he’s not ready for a kiss, he’s certainly not ready for that much naked touching.

He just rests back, using Steve’s arm as a pillow again, and they stay like that until the water grows cold enough to warrant getting out.


	7. Feelings of an almost human nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is taken from Pink Floyd’s ‘The Trial’:
> 
> The prisoner who now stands before you / Was caught red-handed showing feelings / Showing feelings of an almost human nature /This will not do
> 
> The song doesn’t really have anything to do with the chapter. The phrase just stuck with me as something I could use as a title, so I did. :D
> 
> This is the chapter where vampire biting as foreplay comes in, if you need a warning. It also takes place three months after "An old friend".

Bucky should have realized that he wouldn’t get away with teasing Steve without having him retaliate.

After what happened at the Odinsons’, Bucky expected them to stop pretending there was no tension between them, that they would sort of fall into being intimate. And while they do become more affectionate, instinctively twining their fingers together in crowds, holding each other in the night, eliminating all sense of personal space - they don’t go further than that. Sometimes, Steve will tuck Bucky’s hair behind his ear and lean in closer, and Bucky’s heart will threaten to beat right out of his chest with the force of its excitement, but then Steve will just nuzzle into his cheek and pull back again.

Just as Bucky did to him that night.

Except Bucky did it _once,_ and Steve has been going on like this for a month, coming close and then pulling away like a wave teasing the shore over and over instead of settling.

Bucky would be annoyed if he didn’t see Steve’s real intentions. He’s clearly trying to get Bucky to make the first step towards something more - both because he doesn’t want to rush Bucky into it, and because he wants to see Bucky break first.

Too bad Bucky is exactly as stubborn as Steve is.

He ignores the fact that it’s torturing him as well as Steve, trying to resist Steve when he can’t deny how much he wants him. He tells himself they have time though - Steve has all the time in the world, and Bucky… Well. He has a lot of it, at least. He hasn’t heard of a Witcher who’s lived forever yet, but maybe that’s because none of them had a ridiculously overprotective vampire by their side.

Speaking of overprotective—

This is the third job in a row he’s barely had to lift a finger. He was excited for it, too - he’s never fought a cockatrice before, and he was ready for the challenge. It’s a remarkably ugly beast with even more remarkable strength, and he’d barely gotten to scratch it with the tip of his sword before Steve flew at it from the side and wrestled it to the ground so he could tear it apart.

“It was going to leap at you, Buck!” Steve explains when he catches Bucky’s glare after he gets up. “I’ve seen them fight before. You don’t want to let them get that close.”

“I wasn’t going to let it,” Bucky grits through his teeth. He didn’t even realize how angry he was, how useless being next to Steve made him feel. Steve takes a step toward him, his pout making him look way too cute for someone covered in monster guck. “You can stay right there. If you wanna do all the work on your own, you can harvest what you can from the carcass yourself. I’ll find a nice place to rest, since I’m apparently so _weak._ ”

Steve’s face scrunches up, but before he can say something, a third voice reaches them from somewhere above.

“He does that to you too, huh?”

They both startle and look up, but even before he notices her, Bucky’s brain has worked out who the voice belongs to.

“Natasha?” he calls out, and sure enough, he notices a flash of white hair between the branches of a tree not twenty feet from them.

She shifts lightly and swings down, drops from branch to branch until she softly lands on the ground like it’s nothing. He looks back to Steve to see if he’s reasonably impressed, but Steve is still looking up, looking for something. He seems to find it, the corner of his lips turning up, but he doesn’t say anything. He looks back to Bucky, still smiling, and Bucky pointedly turns his back to him and goes to meet Natasha.

“What are you doing here?” he asks and goes to hug her.

She huffs. “What do you think? I was waiting for a chance to pounce on our friend there before you assholes showed up and stole my kill. Well.” She looks at Steve. “One of you assholes stole it.” She looks back at Bucky. “The other just stood there and looked pretty.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky says and shoves at her, but she just laughs.

“Don’t be mad at him,” she says. “It’s just what he does.”

Bucky turns to Steve and raises an eyebrow. “Is she your other Witcher friend?”

Steve looks just as surprised. “Is she the one who called you a skunk?”

“Yes and yes,” Natasha answers for both of them. “How did you two meet?”

Bucky just looks at Steve, wondering how to explain. He doesn’t expect to see a mixture of happiness and nervousness on Steve’s face.

“Nat… This is Bucky.”

Natasha blinks. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“ _Your_ Bucky?” she asks. Her hands come up to Bucky’s face and she turns it this way and that, examining his features intently. “How did I not recognize him?”

“How would you recognize me?” Bucky asks, unnerved when neither of them replies right away.

“Is Sam ever coming down?” Steve asks in the end, obviously changing the subject.

“Yeah,” Natasha says distractedly, her yellow eyes still piercing Bucky, and shakes her head to clear it. She turns around and waves, and another figure drops from a nearby tree, though a lot less gracefully. It’s a dark-skinned man who is wearing brown form-fitting clothing similar to Natasha’s, though he doesn’t have a Cat Witcher medallion like hers.

“This is my friend Sam,” she tells Bucky. “We travel together. Sam, this is…”

“Bucky,” Sam says, “I heard.”

He looks at him like he knows something Bucky doesn’t, and as Bucky shakes his hand, he looks at all three of them in turn, waiting for one of them to say _something._

“Natasha, come help me with the cockatrice,” Steve says, and it’s _something,_ but it’s not what Bucky wanted.

“Sure,” Natasha says, and they walk away, leaving Bucky to seethe after them.

He looks at Sam, who throws his hands up. “I’m not saying anything.” When Bucky gives him his best glare, Sam just laughs. “You think that scares me? Look who I came with,” he says, nodding sharply towards Natasha, which is fair. “Come on, let’s find a place to sit. They can get their hands dirty all they want to.”

“Okay,” Bucky says.

Sam leads him to where he and Natasha left their horses, and then they walk to a clearing nearby and set up camp. Sam resolutely doesn’t tell him how he knows Bucky, asks him how he and Steve reunited instead. Bucky tells him about the night in the hut, about remembering Steve even though he didn’t think he’d even had someone to remember before. He tells him about the couple of months that have passed since, traveling with Steve and feeling like they’ve been by each other’s side for years.

Sam shakes his head as he listens to it all. “That’s incredible,” he says. “Finding each other, after so many years.”

Bucky nods. “How did you meet Natasha?”

“Through Steve.”

“And how did you meet Steve?”

“In a tavern, of all places.” Sam looks up at the darkening sky, gathering his thoughts. “I used to be a knight,” he says. No pride in his voice like Bucky would expect with such a proclamation. “Got sent into a fight I shouldn’t have. I lost someone,” Sam says shortly. “Someone I loved.” He takes a moment to breathe. “I don’t know why I expected a king to care about a lowly soldier, but the way his sacrifice was barely acknowledged… It made me so angry.”

“I don’t blame you,” Bucky says quietly. “So what happened?” He doubts the king in question would have let Sam leave his army without declaring him a traitor.

Sam laughs. “Steve happened,” he says. “I was in a tavern, getting as drunk as I could, and he was just there. And has this earnest face—you know him—makes you spill all your secrets to him,” he says, and Bucky laughs. “When I told him about Riley, about everything, he asked me if I wanted to get away. I said sure, I didn’t really have anyone left who cared about me. He just patted my shoulder and wished me a good night. I thought I’d dreamed the whole thing.”

“But you hadn’t.”

“Nope. A few days later I’m on patrol, and he’s just _there_ in the forest. Asks me if I still want to get away. I still did. He revealed to me what he was then, said he wouldn’t hurt me if I didn’t want to go, but that he could protect me if I wanted to leave. It was way too easy to decide,” he says with a little laugh. “Between my old captain and a journey alongside a vampire, I chose the vampire.” 

“Can’t say I’d choose any different. Where did you want to go once you left?”

“I had no idea,” Sam says. “I had no one to go to. Steve snuck back to my home that first night and took everything of mine he could carry, and we just started walking. Did some jobs on the way. It felt good to help people who actually deserved it.”

Bucky nods in understanding. It’s not like he doesn’t do what he does for the coin, but the rare moments where people actually show appreciation for him instead of wanting him to go away as soon as he gets the job done do feel good.

“We came across Natasha in a similar way we ran into you today and he introduced me. It was the three of us for a while, but then Steve said he needed time alone. That was a couple of years ago.”

“Must be annoying for him now, having me tag along everywhere,” Bucky says. It falls flat; he can’t even joke about Steve not wanting him around when he so clearly does.

Sam levels him with a serious look. “I think he was still looking for you. Everywhere we went,” he says. “I don’t even know if he realized. But he always made sure to look at everyone in every tavern we went to, to go over all the faces in a crowd. Something in him still hoped, even though out loud he said it was hopeless.”

Bucky can’t help but feel guilty about not looking for him, but before he can feel too sorry for himself, he hears the crunch of twigs under feet. He rubs at his eyes and nods his gratitude to Sam for sharing as Steve and Natasha come into view, both carrying different monster parts in their hands.

“We’d better go before it gets too dark,” Natasha says once they’re near.

“Aw, I didn’t even get to talk to Steve,” Sam says, but he gets up. Steve goes to him without really looking at Bucky, so Bucky goes to Natasha.

She’s looking intently at him again. She nods for him to follow her to her horse and he does, watching her tie her catch to the saddle. After she cleans her hands, she reaches in one of her bags and gets a tattered little book out.

“I realized why I didn’t recognize you,” she says slowly. She glances towards Steve and Sam, then carefully pulls Bucky’s jacket open and places the book in his inside pocket. “I hadn’t seen you smile before today.”

He doesn’t fully understand what she means, but he gets the feeling behind it.

“And your hair used to be shorter, of course,” she says. “But he’s made you happy,” she says.

“Yes, he has,” he admits.

She nods, then throws her arms around him unexpectedly, holds him close, the book digging into his ribs. “I’m glad you get to have something back,” she whispers.

He clutches her even tighter. He knows she started her training as a child and hasn’t had any memories return to her, much less any people.

When they pull away, he smiles at her, and she grins back.

“You’ve been traveling with Sam for a while,” he says.

“I have.”

He doesn’t ask her what he wants to ask. Instead, he says, “It’s bullshit what they taught us. That we’re better off alone.”

She nods and looks at Sam, who is slowly approaching along with Steve. “Took me a while to admit it to myself.”

“Better late than never.”

“Yes,” she says, voice soft.

“Are we ready?” Sam asks when he’s close enough, and Natasha nods. “Alright, then. It was good to meet you, Bucky,” he says, reaching out a hand to shake again.

“You, too,” Bucky says. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again someday.”

“Maybe,” Sam says with a little smile. “Take care of each other, meanwhile.”

“You two, as well,” Bucky says, and Natasha winks at him before she and Sam spur their horses on.

An awkward silence falls over him and Steve as they watch them go.

“Are we staying here tonight?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods. “If you want to get the fire started, I’ll go gather some wood to last us through the night.”

Still avoiding him, then. “Fine,” Bucky says and goes.

It takes him a while to start the fire, the motions of his hands more aggressive than coordinated, but he gets it going and sits by it heavily.

It takes him all of two seconds of sulking before curiosity gets the best of him and he reaches inside his pocket to get the book out. It’s old but well kept, and he feels his heart stutter as soon as he opens it.

The book is full of drawings. Steve’s drawings, he knows, though he has no idea when he made them. Years ago if that’s when he last saw Natasha and left the book with her. The first few pages are full of trees, flowers, small animals - things Steve could practice drawing as he camped out alone. And then come the faces.

Bucky doesn’t recognize all of them, but there are a few drawings of a girl Bucky _knows_ is his sister. Was. He doesn’t remember her name, doesn’t remember her voice, but he knows her, knows her face and how it scrunched up when she was upset, how she hid because she didn’t like others seeing her cry, how wide she smiled when she was happy. He turns the page quickly, too overwhelmed to face more memories of her, but then he sees _himself._ Steve filled pages and pages with portraits of him, and he’s smiling in all of them.

All but one.

He wouldn’t be able to even tell it’s his face if he didn’t know. It’s obscured on purpose, blending with the backdrop of a sheer cliff, getting lost in it. Steve drew him falling.

The next few pages are empty, and then there is a drawing of a campsite in the distance, a single figure leaving it. The figure is not detailed, just a vague outline, but it’s present on the next page, and the next. The figure is walking away from the camp and back towards mountains that are dreadfully familiar. Before it reaches them, though, the figure is captured by something with long claws and sharp teeth. One page shows the figure fighting to escape, and the other shows it limp, resigned, its own nails slightly longer than before.

The figure is larger afterward, stronger. It reaches the mountains along with its menacing captor, but there’s nothing to find there.

There are another few pages full of plants and animals before Bucky comes to the hydra. There is less of a story here - one page shows it in all its many-headed glory, and the next it lays defeated, the same figure from before marred with its blood.

Bucky hears footsteps approaching and jumps to his feet, staring at Steve as he comes closer.

“You came after me,” he says, voice shaking. “That’s why you got bit. Because you tried to save me.”

Steve glances down to the book in his hand apprehensively, but as soon as he notices Bucky is tearing up, he drops all the wood he’s carrying and rushes toward him.

“This happened to you because of me,” Bucky whispers, but Steve is already shushing him, wiping his tears with his thumbs, and pressing kisses to his forehead. Idly, Bucky is glad that Steve seems to have found a stream to wash all the blood off himself.

“None of it is your fault,” he says, making sure Bucky is looking at him as he says it. “I chose to run away and come after you. You didn’t decide that for me.”

“But I—”

“No, Buck. They’d captured us, I wouldn’t want to stay with them anyway. But I would have come for you, no matter what. You know that.”

Bucky takes a shuddering breath and drops his head to Steve’s shoulder until he calms down. Steve rubs a hand over his back soothingly.

“I was thankful for it,” he starts talking quietly. “For the bite. The vampire who turned me, he… He was a weird one. He didn’t want to feed on me, just wanted to give me a gift. Said he had no kin, no one to share it with. Said that it would make me stronger. More resilient. All I could think was that it could let me find you,” he says, and Bucky squeezes him tighter. “But he didn’t tell me it would take me weeks to turn. He did some sort of ritual. He’d found a way to make me into a higher vampire even though I wasn’t born like that. By the time I came to myself again, you’d been gone a long time and I had no chance of even finding a body. So I started traveling with him instead.”

“Where is he now?”

“A hydra got to him. We didn’t know we were walking through its territory and it crept up on us. He was weak after he performed the ritual, and I wasn’t exactly good at fighting yet. I managed to finish it off, but not before he died.”

“You saw a higher vampire die?”

“Yeah. He said he’d be vulnerable for a while after the ritual, but I didn’t know it would make him mortal.”

“I’m sorry.”

Steve shrugs. “It was a long time ago. I didn’t have time to feel any attachment to him. But I’m grateful for what he did, Buck,” he says earnestly and pulls away to look at Bucky again. “If he hadn’t turned me, I wouldn’t be alive right now. I never would have found you.”

Bucky can’t stop himself any longer. He tilts his chin up to press a kiss to Steve’s lips, and Steve makes a wounded noise as he kisses back, one hand gently cupping Bucky’s face while the other rests at his lower back, holding him securely against Steve.

He’s reluctant to pull away, going back for a couple of smaller kisses before he can stand to be apart from Steve for long enough to speak.

“I’m glad you found me, Steve.”

“Me too, Buck,” Steve chokes out and kisses him again.

They have much more to talk about, but Bucky just helps Steve gather the wood closer to the fire and they set their bedrolls next to each other.

It’s hard to stop kissing now that they’ve started, but at some point Steve gathers the will to turn Bucky with his back to Steve so he can hold him.

“You need rest,” he whispers, though he doesn’t miss the chance to kiss Bucky’s neck. “We’ll have time for more of this tomorrow.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Bucky says, and Steve chuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says before he falls asleep. “About earlier. I don’t think you’re weak.”

“I know.”

“I just can’t bear the thought of losing you again.”

“I know, Steve.”

Bucky falls asleep with the feeling of Steve carefully scenting his neck.

*

He does hold Steve to his promise from the night before.

After he wakes up, he spends some time pretending he’s still asleep, but then impatience gets the better of him.

He rolls on top of Steve and flushes when Steve grins up at him.

“Good morning,” Steve says.

Bucky hums. “About to make it so,” he murmurs, grinding down on Steve so that there is no mistake exactly what he means.

“Buck,” Steve gasps, and one of his hands goes to Bucky’s hips to still him, but the other tangles in his hair to pull him closer and crash their mouths together. “ _Fuck,_ ” he grunts in-between kisses, and Bucky shudders at the way Steve’s teeth graze over his lower lip.

“Yes,” he says, breathless in his anticipation, and in the next moment he gets the little breath he has left knocked out of him as Steve switches their positions, Bucky now on his back and staring up at him. Steve’s eyes are getting darker, his canines longer; he’s holding Bucky’s hands down above his head, and Bucky can feel long nails digging into his skin. He can’t stop the moan that escapes him as he notes all the changes, and when Steve actually growls at him, Bucky’s hips rise on their own in a fruitless effort to press against Steve.

“Bucky,” Steve groans. “I can’t,” he grits out. “I don’t know if I can control myself. Not when I’m with you.”

“I don’t want you to control yourself,” Bucky says. “I want you.” When Steve shakes his head, he continues, “I wasn’t joking that morning. When I said I wanted you to bite me. I wasn’t joking last month or any other time I mentioned it. I want your marks on me.” Steve closes his eyes as he shudders at Bucky’s words. “Please,” he lands the final blow with a whisper, “make me yours.”

Steve descends on him, every biting kiss making Bucky even more desperate for him. He bares his neck on instinct, and Steve hums appreciatively, licking over Bucky’s pulse point and grazing his teeth over his skin in a way that makes his cock throb.

“When you were talking to Loki,” Steve speaks, and his voice is so rough it’s almost unrecognizable. “About your bite marks. Where were you picturing them?” Bucky swallows and hesitates, which makes a growl reverberate through Steve’s chest. “Tell me.”

“My thighs,” Bucky admits quietly.

Steve sits back on his heels between Bucky’s legs, his hands settling a little above Bucky’s knees. “Here?”

“Higher,” Bucky says.

Steve slides his hands slowly to the middle of Bucky’s thighs. He looks at Bucky, who shakes his head. By the time Steve’s hands reach high enough, his thumbs sliding over the sensitive insides of his thighs over the fabric of his pants, Bucky feels like he’s about to unravel.

“There,” he all but moans, and when Steve reaches for the hem of his pants, all he can do is lift his hips so he can remove them.

He spreads his legs shamelessly, and Steve gives him a wild smile, caressing the skin of his thighs lightly before he leans over him.

Bucky expects him to hesitate, take a moment before he takes this step, but Steve kisses his inner thigh as soon as he is close enough to do it, and then sinks his teeth into it.

Bucky can’t help the small noise he lets out, more out of surprise than pain. There is a sting, a momentary pain that shoots up his leg, but then Steve licks over the small wound and the pain fades, leaving him with a tingling that starts where Steve’s lips meet his skin but soon spreads all over his body.

“Steve,” he moans, pulsing with it, and Steve just hums contentedly, so satisfied to be tasting him, it makes Bucky’s cock throb. “Steve,” he says again, and without a word Steve pulls Bucky’s smallclothes enough to get his mouth around his cock. “Fuck!”

Steve goes slow, doesn’t give in to Bucky’s pleas to go faster, holds Bucky’s hips down when he tries to fuck into his mouth and get himself off.

He pulls away before Bucky can come and licks his lips, smiling when Bucky whines at him.

“Not done yet,” he rasps, and bites into Bucky’s other thigh.

Although it’s familiar now, the feeling washes over him again even stronger than before, making him pulse with pleasure with every suck of Steve’s lips. Deep down he knows it’s venom making him feel like this, turning him into easy prey, but it’s _Steve_ between his legs, and Bucky can think of no better fate than giving in to him.

By the time Steve is done feeding, Bucky feels like he’s going to come even if Steve doesn’t touch him again. He’s so sensitive, so deep into the pleasure he’s almost surprised to see Steve hover over him, but the touch on his cheek snaps him back to reality.

“Steve,” he whimpers. “ _Please._ ”

“I know, Buck,” Steve says. He’s leaning down to kiss him, mouth tasting of Bucky’s blood, and Bucky can feel Steve’s hand wrap around both of them and start jerking them off. It’s rough and too dry and it’s _so good,_ he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck to keep his mouth on him as he fucks into his hand. It doesn’t take them long to come, Bucky letting out noises he doesn’t even recognize, Steve shuddering above him and barely managing to shift his weight so he doesn’t crush Bucky when he drops down.

He has his arm over Bucky as they catch their breath, and so he feels the laughter bubbling in Bucky’s chest even before it turns into sound. He raises his head tiredly to look at him, his features back to normal, and Bucky starts _giggling._

“Is everything alright, Buck?”

“I feel _drunk,_ ” Bucky says, giddy. “Good drunk,” he clarifies when Steve still remains worried, but that doesn’t seem to help. “Do I taste good?” he asks, his thumb pulling on Steve’s lower lip.

“Gods. _Yes,_ ” he says and drops his head to Bucky’s shoulder.

“Good,” Bucky says. “If I don’t get to feel that again I might actually die.”

Steve laughs. “And I thought _I_ wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Bucky pats Steve’s cheek. “’M proud of you,” he says, still feeling a little woozy, and Steve laughs against him. “You’ll have to carry me today,” Bucky says.

Steve lifts his head again and grins. “Can’t feel your legs?”

“Can feel a bit too much,” Bucky says. He slides a hand down to his thigh and winces as he touches one of the bite marks, the spot tender and swollen. “Not getting on a saddle with those. Don’t you dare apologize,” he says when he sees Steve frown. “I asked you to mark me.”

“You did.”

“It’s official now. I’m yours.”

Steve’s gaze softens. “And I’m yours,” he says. “Always have been.”

“Always will be,” Bucky says, and Steve returns the oath with a sweet kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a small epilogue right after this, make sure to check it out :'D


	8. An old friend, part V (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE SECOND CHAPTER THAT'S BEEN POSTED TODAY! If you haven't read chapter 7, make sure you check it out <3

After they’re scrubbed clean, they go back to the tavern for a late breakfast, after which Bucky goes to get Alpine from the stables. She sniffs at him, then snorts and nudges him as if to admonish him for leaving her alone for so long.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her and pets her. “I don’t think they had a tub big enough for you.”

She snorts but doesn’t nudge him again, just waits patiently for him to check if everything is as he left it and let her outside.

“Hey, girl,” he hears Steve say quietly, and then there is the distinct crunch of an apple between horse jaws.

Bucky turns to look at them, and Steve meets his gaze for a second before he looks at Alpine and shakes his head. “I thought this could be our little secret,” he admonishes, but Alpine has no shame and just sniffs at his pockets, looking for more treats.

“There can be no secrets here,” Bucky says as he moves up to her head again to pet her neck. “Certainly no spoiling her behind my back.”

Steve nods seriously. “I’ll make sure to only do it in front of you so you can see me become her new favorite.”

Bucky laughs. “I thought horses didn’t like you.”

“Neither do Witchers, usually.”

“I thought you had a Witcher friend.”

“I found the two exceptions to the rule,” Steve says with a smile. “The rest don’t like me. Certainly don’t trust me enough to sleep anywhere near me, let alone in the same bed.”

Speaking of…

“Where did you go last night?” Bucky asks. When Steve doesn’t reply immediately, he admits, “I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“I went back for the werewolf,” Steve says. “To bury him.”

“Why?”

“It’s what I do,” Steve says simply. “Doesn’t feel right to leave creatures like that.” He shrugs. “If someone had to kill me, I’d want them to bury me.”

“But you can’t be killed.”

“No one has found a way,” Steve corrects. “Doesn’t mean they won’t someday.”

Bucky nods, trying to figure out Steve’s tone. “Do you resent the fact that you’re immortal?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve lived long enough to resent it yet,” Steve says, and Bucky nods in understanding. “But I didn’t ask for it. Didn’t seem that appealing if it meant I’d be doomed to be alone.”

Bucky nods. “I imagine eternal life is only desirable until you actually have it in your grasp,” he says. “Could be good if you had someone to share it with, though.”

A smile grows on Steve’s face as he digests Bucky’s words, showing off his sharp canines again. “Yeah?”

“I guess we’ll have to see for ourselves.”

“I guess we will.”

They just look at each other for a long time, and then Alpine breaks the moment by turning her head to the side and effectively becoming a barrier between them. Bucky laughs and pets her again, knowing she’s becoming restless while they’re wasting time subtly pouring out their emotions and planning their future together. He can’t promise her she won’t witness any more of this, so he doesn’t.

He just leads her out into the sun, Steve by his side, ready to begin their journey together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. This was my first time writing vampire so I'm sorry it was relatively tame :'D But I hope it was a good start nonetheless.
> 
> ♥♥♥

**Author's Note:**

> [ache's twitter](https://twitter.com/mordrecl) | [inflomora's twitter](https://twitter.com/inflomora_art)  
> [fic on twitter](https://twitter.com/mordrecl/status/1317933531599900672) | [art on twitter](https://twitter.com/inflomora_art/status/1319321094181015560)


End file.
